The Spider and the Hawk
by meredithgrey23
Summary: This is my take on how Natasha and Clint met and how things progressed from there. There will be romance, no worries. Initially set before the Avengers movie.
1. The Black Widow

**Author's Note: This is my first fic that I've posted here, so I hope you guys enjoy. Feedback is greatly appreciated :) Thanks to Animus et Anima for being such a cheerleader! Oh, and I don't own the Avengers. What I do own is any character that I make up. **

The Black Widow had another job. Her target was a very interesting woman who knew far too much for her employer's liking. Anna Anissina was a very intelligent woman that noticed too much. It was the Widow's assignment to take her out. To make her disappear, for good. She had to get close to Anna, closer than anyone.

As always, the Widow needed a cover, and a good one at that. She could not use only her charms on this one. It was much more complicated than that. If she pulled this off, one million euros would be in her pocket and she would be on her way to Paris. This one was a catch, if she could pull this off she would be a very wealthy woman.

She was intelligent for a girl of eighteen. She could look older, or younger than her age, depending on her mission. Many a time she had played the innocent girl, just trying to find the train station. She knew just who she would be this time, Anna's young, new intern fresh from Moscow. She smiled, this should be fun.

Two weeks had gone by since her assignment had been given to her. She had created an entire identity that was foolproof. She had explored every avenue of every area in her new background. There was no way Anna could think that this identity was false, her work was flawless. She was now Klara Baranova, age twenty from Moscow.

Her interview went flawlessly, Anna had played right into her hand. She got the job two days later, just like she knew she would. She started at Bukolov Pharmaceuticals the next day. Everything was going according to plan.

Monday came around and she was in her business attire, a white blouse, black pencil skirt, and black heels. She clipped her name badge onto her blouse and looked into the mirror. She was no longer the Black Widow, she was Klara Baranova. Her long, dark red hair had been dyed a beautiful shade of chestnut, so that it didn't stand out in the crowd. That was something she was trying to avoid.

Work was pretty uneventful. Klara spent her time following Ms. Anissina around, handling her paperwork, and running her various schedules. She was a hard worker, and became close to Anna very quickly. She played her part so well, that she began to believe it.

Two months went by, and she was ready for action. There was a company gala in a week and that was where Klara was going to strike. No theatrics this time, just something quiet and subtle. Something that would kill Anna in her sleep, no one knowing. It was better that way, she could slip out quietly. With Anna dead, there would be no need for Anna's intern. She would be let go and then disappear altogether. Simple as that.

The night of the gala came, everything was set. She had been sent to go buy a tube of Anna's favorite lipstick. She had dipped it in poison, just enough to soak into her skin. Anna Anissina would be dead by morning and Klara would be the recipient of one million euros. Still, Klara couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Her instincts were precise, but she blew it off. She was just having stage fright, that's all. Anna had put on the lipstick, just as she was supposed to. Now all Klara had to do was enjoy herself for the evening.

She knew someone was watching her. She could feel eyes on her, not just eyes appraising her beauty, no these eyes were watching a target. She play her part flawlessly, as always, but she knew that someone at that gala knew who she was. From everyone she met, she felt no suspicion of any sort, so it must have been someone that she had never met. Klara knew her disguise was flawless in design. She changed it up enough that no one who had met her previous aliases would even have an inkling that they had met her before. If it wasn't someone that she had encountered on one of her other jobs, then who the hell was it?

Air, that is what she needed, air. To get away from the stifling people for a moment, to touch up her makeup and make sure her hair was in place. She walked out of the ornate ballroom and into the open air. A cool breeze rushed over her bare shoulders, and put it's fingers through her hair. It was a beautiful night. Klara didn't feel so exposed here, so unhinged. The garden was beautiful; full of fountains and flowers that shouldn't be able to grow in Russia's harsh climate. She mused how much it must cost the owner to keep them alive, they were beautiful enough to be worth it, though.

He watched her from up above, settled quietly in a tree; waiting and watching. He had been watching for months now, this little spider was fascinating. She played her part with deadly accuracy, so much so that he had almost lost her when she took this job. She was like a chameleon, appearing and disappearing at a moment's notice. He had never seen anything quite like her before.

He had gone through her file, as scant as it was, and memorized it. Natasha Romanoff, age eighteen, assassin. That was about it. There were three pictures and a few details about various previous jobs, but he knew that there was much more to her than that. How does an eighteen year old girl become such a talented professional killer? What had happened to her to make her like that?

S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him to kill her, but he wanted answers first. He didn't think that he could kill her; she had so much to offer. If he could just get her to come to his side, she could live. She might have red on her ledger, but that didn't mean that she deserved to die.

He wondered, as he watched her, if anyone had ever given her way out. A chance to make a new life for herself. A chance to be good. Director Fury was going to have his ass for this one, but he was going to make a judgement call.


	2. The Mysterious Archer

He wanted to make his presence known to this mysterious little spider, to give her an opportunity to choose. He knew that she had suspicions and that if he wasn't careful, she would spook. He had to get her to come willingly, but first he had to give her a warning.

The arrow brushed mere centimeters from her neck. She knew the shooter ment to miss her, and she was thankful that he did. She spun around and had her gun out of it's holster and pointed in the direction that the arrow had came from in mere seconds.

A man jumped down from a tree to her left, with his bow drawn and ready to shoot again at a moment's notice. He was quite handsome; even in her current situation Klara could see that. He had dark brown hair, a muscular body, and piercing grey eyes. They reminded her of someone else's eyes. They looked exactly like his...but that was for another time.

"Don't try anything funny, Natasha. I was sent here to kill you, but I have something else in mind. My organization doesn't seem to like you since you popped up on our radar a few months ago. I must say, your skill set is completely unique, especially for someone your age. So, I have an offer for you."

"I know what you did to Anna, she's a lost cause. She can't be saved. I can turn your life around, you can live a life worth something. I'm making a judgement call here, so take it or leave it. If you don't want a new life, I promise that I'll make it quick. Straight through the heart and it'll be over and done with before you know it. But, if you do want something else, Natasha, just say the word. I'll knock you out with an arrow with a gas tip and we will start again. I promise no one will hurt you. I will be with you night and day. We will wipe that red off your ledger together."

She looked at him, deep in thought, gun still pointed right at his heart. Was this a trap? Or was he actually offering her a chance to start anew? She had tried so many times, but someone had always found her; always given her such an enticing offer that she just couldn't refuse. He seemed so kind, so gentle; even when he had an arrow aimed at her heart. If she refused he promised to kill her quickly, she had never heard that one before. There was a very long list of people that wanted her dead, and none of them would do it quickly. And those eyes, they looked just like his. Maybe that was what he would've looked like if he had gotten the chance to grow up.

"My arrow will kill you before you can pull that trigger, Natasha. Drop your gun, and I will let you take a moment and weigh your options."

"How do I know that you just won't kill me? That you're not just playing a game with me? How do I know that you'll keep your word and not have me tortured?"

"You don't know, that's the thing. But has anyone ever made you that offer before? A chance at something new?"

"No, your offer is unique."

"Just as I thought, now put the gun down slowly, please. I'd like to not have to put an arrow through your heart."

This was it, she had to make up her mind here and now. She could drop the gun, but she could be possibly walking straight into a trap. If she tried to shoot and run, he would kill her before she could get away. Either way, she could die. But the chance of getting that red off her ledger was tempting. She had an out, and she wanted to take it.

Very slowly, she put down the gun. Then she started taking out her other various weapons and placing them on the ground as well. In less than a minute, she looked back into those eyes, holding her hands above her head.

"I want an out, I have been doing this for far too long. I'm basically dead either way. Better to die with some hope, then to die alone with nothing."

"Are you sure about this? Once you come to my side, there is no leaving, no going back. They will kill you without a second thought, and they won't be merciful like I would be. And I wouldn't have let you die alone, you know. I would have been right there with you the entire time."

"You have no idea how much red I have in my ledger. It's dripping, more than you could imagine. I want this, I want out. If your offer still stands, I'll take it."

"Mine is just as red as yours; like I said, we'll wipe it clean together."

Natasha closed her eyes, waiting for death. Instead, she heard an arrow land in her vicinity. The air around her filled with gas, and she felt herself slipping into a drug induced sleep. Maybe this mysterious archer was going to keep his end of the bargain after all.


	3. His End of the Bargain

**Author's Note: Here is another (longer) chapter! Enjoy :) **

**I don't own the Avengers or any characters besides the ones I come up with myself. **

He caught her as she sank to the ground. Fury was not going to be happy about this, he was supposed to bring back a body, not a being. He would defend her though, with everything that he had. Natasha Romanoff was worth fighting for. He picked her up, she was quite light. That would make for an easier get away, he didn't have to worry that she would be too heavy for him. He set her down gently in the back seat of a red sports car, an interesting choice for one so focused on staying hidden. The archer didn't bother tying her up, she would be out for hours with the stuff that she inhaled. She would have one hell of a headache when she woke up, though.

His arrival at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base in Saint Petersburg did not go unnoticed. On the contrary, Director Fury, himself, was waiting for him. He sighed, this was going to be one hell of a night. He picked her unconscious body up gently, trying not to jostle her. Fury was looking at him in a triumphant manner, he hadn't seen the ever so slight rise and fall of her chest yet. He took a deep breath, here goes nothing.

As he approached Fury, he could see his expression shift from that of triumph to confusion to anger. "Agent Barton, what is the meaning of this? I told you to take her out, not bring her back alive!"

"With all due respect, sir, could we take this inside somewhere? I really don't want to discuss this out in the open."

Fury shook his head and sighed, "Fine, but leave her with the medics, they will take care of her until she regains consciousness."

He was lying, Barton knew exactly what he was planning on doing. The second he let her out of his sight, they would kill her. Fury viewed her as too much of a risk to keep her breathing one second more than necessary.

"Sir, I'm bargaining for her life here, not leading a pig to slaughter. I'm a hawk, remember? I lve up in the rafters, I see everything, but nothing sees me. I made a judgement call and I expect you to hear me through before you take extreme action. You know, better than anyone, I never make a call unless I'm sure. And for her, I couldn't be more positive that I made the right one."

"Very well, we will talk in your quarters. If she is going to stay alive, which I haven't decided on yet, there have to be some parameters. I normally trust your judgement, Agent Barton, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt, for now."

"Thank you, sir. I will be ready to talk in five minutes."

Five minutes later, there was a knock on Agent Barton's door. Now the real challenge was about to begin.

They sat down at the kitchen table, facing each other. Neither of the men knew just where to begin, for neither of them had ever had an experience like this one before.

"Look, Director, I know what I did was a little unorthodox, but-"

"A little unorthodox, Clint, a little? You went again MY orders, which clearly stated that you were to take out Natasha Romanoff, no exceptions. I told you that she was too dangerous to be allowed to live. She cannot be changed; she is an assassin for hire and before that she was a Russian spy. I don't know if she chose that life for herself or if it was chosen for her, but there is no going back. Do you know how many people she has murdered for large sums of money, Barton? We don't even have the full list yet, but it is well over two hundred. You have compromised our security by bringing her here, and you have made more work for me. Now I have an assassin to kill, myself and then a body to dispose of. And you, you are on probation. I don't know for how long, but you are out of the game. Get some rest, and figure out what it is you really want in life, Clint. If it isn't S.H.I.E.L.D., then I need to know now."

Agent Clint Barton looked at the Director, unphased, "Are you done? Because I need a turn to talk. I gave her an opportunity that she had never been offered before. She wanted a way out, and when I offered it to her, she took it. She is eighteen! Not even old enough to drink in the United States, Nick. She is basically a child! Do you really think that she chose this life for herself? To be this good at what she does at that age would mean that she has been in training for at least ten years. You didn't see her when I offered a new life to her; she looked so vulnerable and frightened. And even when she accepted the offer, she was still convinced that I was going to kill her. She said it would be better to die with some hope, then die alone. She closed her eyes and was ready to die, Nick. An eighteen year old shouldn't have to be willing to die; to be so trapped in the life that she is living that she willingly surrenders her weapons and accepts fate. That is not meant for an eighteen year old."

"And as for the number of people she's killed, I'm sure I killed more before you recruited me. I live with the guilt of those I've killed every single day of my life. I remember every one of them; how they looked when they realized what was happening. I remember their names, their backgrounds, everything. I'm trying to make up for the mess that I've made. You made a judgement call on me, and I'm making one on her. She deserves a second chance."

Silence filled the room as Fury contemplated what he had said. That boy did have a point, he just hated to admit it. If he let that girl live, she could turn at anytime, but if he killed her he would lose Barton. He couldn't lose Barton; he saw things that no one else did. He was a hawk, always looking down from his perch.

"Fine, she can live; she can stay. But, we need to lay out some ground rules. First, if she makes one wrong move, I will kill her. This is her second chance, she cannot mess this one up, because if she does, that's the end of the line. Second, I want you to insert an untraceable tracker into her ankle. I want to be able to know where she is and what she's doing at all times. Third, she will go through the S.H.I.E.L.D. training course just like any other recruit. And finally, she is your responsibility, Barton. You will take the fall with her if she fails. You are her mentor, you will guide her and help her adjust. You will understand her better than she understands herself. You will eat together, you will train together, and when the time comes, you will be partners. You are out of the field until such a time that I deem her fit enough to go on missions. Agent Coulson will become her handler as well. Also, your living quarters will be hers, too. If I'm correct, you have an extra bedroom in your quarters in the states. It's hers now. Take a few day, get her comfortable, then the training begins. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, sir, I'd say we sure do."

Natasha woke up in a room that was foreign to her. It wasn't unusually large, but it was warm and inviting. She looked down, the baggy sweat pants and shirt that she was wearing was definitely not the dress she fell asleep in. As she sat up, she groaned. Her head felt like she had been shot point blank a couple of times. Whatever that guy had drugged her with must have been strong, because she hadn't felt this bad in a long time.

As she surveyed her surroundings, she finally noticed a figure in the shadows. It was him, the mysterious archer. Maybe he was going to keep his end of the bargain after all. As he slowly stepped closer, she noticed that he was wearing basically the same thing as she was, only they actually fit him. She assumed what she was wearing had to be his.

"Well, Natasha, it's good to see you awake. You've been out for about fourteen hours now, and I was beginning to get a little anxious. Usually, it doesn't take that long for someone to wake up after that stuff."

"And, um, well by now you noticed that you aren't exactly wearing the dress that you were in when I found you. I didn't really have anything else, so I just put you in some sweats. Don't worry, I didn't look."

"Much appreciated, whoever you are. Can I just stay here for a bit, my head is killing me."

"Sure, sorry about that, I didn't mean to knock you out for so long. And my name is Clint Barton, I'm an agent here. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I do too. Since I don't think you'd answer truthfully, I'm gonna make it into a game of sorts. You can ask me twenty questions, and I can ask you twenty. If you answer one dishonestly, and I will know if you do, you lose a chance to ask me a question. Every lie equals one less question on your part. Does that make sense?"

Natasha stared at him, he was asking her to do the unthinkable. He was asking her to tell the truth about herself, to reveal the past. That was something that she could not and would not do under any normal circumstances.

"Can I ask you anything?"

"Yes, anything. Personal, job related, past, present, whatever. Now, do you want to start or should I?"

"Where am I?"

"You are in Saint Petersburg, at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Russian base. And right now, you are in my room, or what will be our room until we get back to the states."

She nodded, lost in thought. She had heard of S.H.I.E.L.D. before. Some American mumbo jumbo organization; it was much bigger and more complex than she realized.

"My turn, when you surrendered your weapons, you were looking at me. Like you recognize something about me. Who did I remind you of, and what was it about me that did it?'

This was the one question she did not want to answer. She had no desire to tell this Clint Barton about him. How his eyes were a mirror image of Barton's. She could lie to anyone, but she didn't think she could lie to him. She took a deep breath, her blank mask reappearing on her face.

"I have to answer, correct?"

"Yep, that's kind of how it works."

"You have my brother's eyes. They are exactly like his, and I thought well, maybe he would've looked at bit like you if he grew up."

Barton frowned at looked at her, he could detect no falsehood in her voice or actions. She was telling the truth.

"How did you end up here?"

"I was much like you, I was an assassin and a good one at that. I have a unique skill set, much like you do, and someone made a call. Instead of killing me, they gave me a second chance. I've never looked back since."

He was like her, a killer for hire, a mess of a human being. No morals, no remorse, no feelings of any sort if they could help it. Here she was thinking that this man knew nothing about her pain, but the truth was he knew everything. His ledger was probably dripping as well, and somehow, he had been able to turn his life around. Maybe, just maybe, she would be able to obtain redemption after all.

She paused for a moment, was she hearing him right? Was that flawless Russian she heard coming out of his mouth? How on earth did he know Russian like that? He sounded like he had been speaking it for his entire life.

"You speak Russian."

"Yes, I speak Russian. Did you just realize that was what I was speaking?"

He had played right into it, now she had avoided another potentially personal question.

"This counts as your question, you know. And to answer you, yes I just realized you were speaking Russian. I know so many languages, that it doesn't really occur to me what language someone is speaking, I just reflexively answer."

Clint smiled, she was a tricky little spider. She got him to waste one of his valuable questions on asking her about Russian. She was quite smart, even when she was recovering from being drugged.

"You stated that you have a unique skill set, care to elaborate?"

"I am gifted with languages, I know upwards of thirty and am fluent in more than twenty five. I am particularly skilled with the bow and arrow, as you have been well acquainted with by now. I can easily disappear into the shadows, and never be found unless I want to be. My greatest skill, though, is quite simple. Since I dwell in the shadows, I am able to see things from a different perspective. That's why I was able to save you; I knew what you had was special. It would have been a waste to kill you."

Natasha knew she was gifted, but special was a new way to be described. Hopefully, she was able to live up to whatever expectations this Agent Barton had of her. Maybe she would even like the person she became. It would be a welcome change to looking at herself in the mirror with scorn, shame, and self loathing.

"Tell me about your childhood, anything you want to tell me. A story, a memory; I promise none of this will leave this room."

Damn it, this was against everything she had ever been taught. Telling a complete stranger secrets about her past, that was unheard of. She was raised to lie, to make a life from scratch for every job. The truth wasn't something that she was prepared to give yet.

"I don't want to. You don't get to hear about my past yet, soon, but not yet. Ask me something else."

"I can wait. We can resume this when you are ready to tell me a story. I understand that too much, too soon might not be the best for you. When you trust me, tell me."

Natasha sighed, "Agent Barton, it's not about me not trusting you. I do trust you, just not enough. You have earned my general trust, but you have to go deeper. I'm sorry, but it goes against everything I've ever been taught. I'm not trying to be ungrateful or anything, what you did was beyond kindness. It's just that everything is happening at once, you know?"

"Tasha, relax, it's fine. We'll get there eventually. Now, get some sleep and tomorrow we will go over the ground rules and start training, although I don't think you need it."

She nodded, training would be nice, she could always use a refresher course. As she drifted off, she wondered what was in store for her. Just another job to be sure, but maybe this time she'd have a friend to do it with.


	4. Ground Rules

Natasha got woken up by Agent Barton early the next morning. She was starving, but ready to start the day. The way she saw it, this job was unlike any other that she had ever experienced before. The threat of death was nothing new, that was a constant problem when one was a mercenary assassin. She just had never worked for an organization that had originally wanted her dead before. Well, there was always time for a new experience. Hell, this could be her most exciting job yet.

"So, ready for the ground rules? I know it's early, but I thought better we should start now."

"I'm ready when you are, Barton."

"Director Fury wanted me to make it very clear to you that this is your second chance. If you blow this one, you are a dead woman. He will kill you himself, and I expect that it won't be quick. He will get every ounce of information out of you that he can, and then when there is nothing left, you will die. I know you are a strong woman, so I know it might take him months to break you. Director Fury is a patient man, though, and he will get the job done. If you blow it, nothing I can say or do will save you. Hell, I will be dragged down with you. Please don't blow this, Natasha, or it'll put both of our lives on the line."

"I hear you crystal clear. I mess this one up, we both die."

"Also, I inserted an untraceable tracker into your body. You will not be able to figure out where I put it, but it is there. Fury wants eyes on you at all times, he's not going to risk losing you. It can't be found by others, either. If anyone scans you for bugs, the scan will come up empty. No one will have any idea that you are being traced, so that should help keep you safe during missions."

"So basically, you are saying that Fury trusts me just about as far as he can throw me, correct?"

"That's right, but can you really blame him? It will take some time for him to warm up to you being alive and well and working FOR him instead of against him."

"I don't blame him, honestly. I'm not quite sure why we are sitting here talking and I'm unbound. I could kill you twenty different ways right now."

She was observant, this one. He didn't know quite how he should answer her. How could he explain that he had been exactly where she was? That he knew every single thought that was flashing through her mind at that very moment?

"If you had wanted to kill me, you would have done it already. Besides, we are going to be partners. I'm going to have to trust you at some point, so why not now? Maybe my trust is misplaced, but I really don't think it is."

He trusted her. Usually, that was a terrible idea that got various people killed in unpleasant manners. He shouldn't trust her, he really shouldn't. Especially when she didn't even trust herself at this point. Suddenly, a thought popped into her head.

"Wait, you said that we are going to be partners?"

"Yep, we train together, work together, and live together. In the same apartment, separate rooms, just to clarify."

"Is there anything more I should know?"

"Everyone is going to take a while to warm up to you. By now, they all know exactly who you are and what you've done. I expect word has even gotten to the states, by now. Some, like me, won't care who you are or what you've done in the past, but those are few and far between. Expect to be disliked and distrusted. Your every move will be watched, analyzed, and questioned. Nothing you do will be excused by anyone. Some people might be openly hostile to you, and if that happens you cannot challenge them in any way. If given the chance, they will hurt you."

Natasha scoffed at this, "I don't think they could touch me, even if they wanted to. I've had extensive training for this sort of thing. If they tried to hurt me, even with weapons, I think I could win."

This was what was going to get her killed. If she kept up this appearance she was taking, she would be dead before the end of the week. How was he supposed to keep her alive for YEARS? How was that even possible with an attitude like hers?

"Natasha, you are treading some deep waters here. You might take some men down with you, but this entire base, besides me, would be at the ready to kill you. You got that? Five thousand S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives willing and ready to kill you, and by that point I would be screwed up too."

"I was just stating the truth, I'm not stupid enough to actually DO anything. God, Barton, how freaking stupid do you think I am? This is a job, and in my business there is a golden rule. Do you know that rule? Don't piss off your employers and give them a reason to kill you, simple as that. If they are happy, you get to live another day."

This woman was frustrating beyond measure. Didn't she understand that he knew everything that she did about that business? He had been the best of the best, he knew how to get the job done. He was just trying to make it through the day with her, just trying to keep her safe.

"Look, I'm trying to keep you alive here. I'd prefer to have you alive because I worked pretty hard to get you here. Let's just get through today, and then you can argue with me as much as you want, okay?"

"You have a deal, Barton. Today first, then the fun can begin."

Clint sighed, this was going to be a longer day than he expected.


	5. A Fighting Match

**Author's Note: Another chapter, more fun. Sorry it took longer than usual, I've been busy. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Natasha, Clint or when the time comes, the Avengers. If I did, I'd be marrying Jeremy Renner haha**

After a quick breakfast of cereal and protein supplements, Agent Barton got down to business. "We have gym number five reserved for private practice in twenty minutes. Take a shower, your uniform is in the bathroom for when you're done. Let me know if I'm missing anything, but I think I covered all of my bases womanly supplies wise. Enjoy your shower."

Six minutes later, Natasha was out of the shower and getting ready. The bathroom had been well supplied with everything she needed, and for that she was more than grateful. She looked down at her new uniform, a catsuit. There was a note attached to it that read, "It's standard issue for all women that are part of S.H.I.E.L.D., my apologies."

Oh great, she thought ruefully, this should be fun to get into.

It had taken her quite some time to get into that thing, it was murder. She might be in the best physical shape of her life, but it had still been difficult to get into. Hopefully, she would get used to it soon. She threw her long, chestnut hair into a ponytail. She figured that training would take a while and that it would be rough, not difficult, but rough.

As she left the bathroom, she noticed a pair of black boots sitting by the door. They were a sturdy pair that would probably reach almost to her knees when she put them on. Her "uniform" was tailored for maximum movement, making everything much easier. She was ready to take on today, whatever it may lead to.

"So, ready to go? We need to be there soon and after we train, we are having lunch with Director Fury and a few other people."

She looked up to see Barton dressed in black pants and a black and purple sleeveless shirt. His quiver and bow were strapped to his back and he was putting on his arm guards. She must say, he didn't look too bad.

"I'm ready when you are, Barton. Let the fun and games begin."

As they walked through the immense Russian base, Natasha realized that Clint had been right. She could literally feel the hostility coming off other agents in waves. She expected people to be against her, but not so much outright hatred. They couldn't be blamed though, she even hated herself. Also, some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had probably ended up six feet under because of her, not much she could do about that now. She had never been anywhere in the friendly vicinity to any of her employers and her co workers were simply competition that had to be gotten rid of.

He could tell that she hadn't expected so much hate from the people around them. A few months ago, a couple of agents had gotten into the crossfire and had ended up dead. That was when Fury decided that she needed to be dealt with, and swiftly.

They arrived at the training room just on time, barely. Clint ushered her in and then closed and locked the door, he didn't want any unwanted visitors today. He took off his quiver and arrows, as well as his arm guards. They wouldn't be using those anytime soon. They went nicely in the corner by the door.

"Okay, first I need to assess your skill set. I'm aware of most of it, but I don't know everything. To do that, I am going to put you through a series of sparring matches between you and I. I need to see the raw talent, so you don't get any weapons. I'm sure you can get creative, though, and come up with something. Knowing you, it won't be too difficult. Good luck."

Sparring matches, fancy. She knew that they were evenly matched skill set wise. She also knew that he was the best of the best, as was she. She also knew that, in time, he would know her strengths and weaknesses better than anyone else. Natasha wasn't sure if she was comfortable with that or not. Most people that saw her fight ended up dead, and the rest were too afraid to tell. A change of pace might be exactly what she needed.

She was in Widow mode now, deadly and dangerous. She was ready for a fight, and she knew for a fact that she was going to get one. She knew that he had been watching her like a hawk in silence while she sorted everything out in her head, and she wanted to take him by surprise. She appeared deep in thought while he edged closer to her, ready to take her by surprise. At the last moment, she lunged, and the fight began.

The first match was fast, over in about three minutes. Natasha had taken Clint quite by surprise, and he wasn't fully able to recover. That tricky little spider had taken had seen an opportunity, and taken it. The punches she threw were full of power, much more than one would assume of a girl of such slight stature. He managed to get ahold of her about a minute into it, and throw her across the room. In a catlike fashion, she landed in a crouch, ready to dish out more.

She pounced and kicked, effectively sending him to the ground. She might be small, but boy was she powerful. She was on top of him in an instant, her left arm cutting off his airway and her right keeping his arm pinned to his side.

"The spider wins this round, hawk. You never know when I'll strike."

As she loosened pressure on his throat, he looked at her with furrowed brows, "How did you know that that's what they call me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You called me a hawk, how did you know that they call me Hawkeye?"

That was his name, Hawkeye? She should have seen that one coming from a mile away.

"I didn't know, but when I first met you, that's what you reminded me of. You were like a hawk, watching and waiting. Then, when I least expected it, you swooped down and attacked. There was no way you could be anything but a hawk, in my eyes."

He nodded, that was interesting. Not many people figured that one out on their own. She really was observant. It was time to turn the tables, they could talk later. He flipped her over so that she was pinned under him, and smiled while she struggled. "Hawks are patient, my friend."

The Widow groaned in frustration, he was patient and smart. He waited for an opportunity when she was distracted, and went for the kill. If this had been a real fight, she would have been dead.

They went six more rounds, both winning three. By the time they were finished, both of them were bloody and bruised. Neither of them had held back in the slightest, and both of them had paid for it. They had been in there longer than Clint had anticipated, it was almost time for their lunch with Fury and friends, and there was no time to clean up.

When they exited the training room, there was a crowd of people outside, wanting to see what kind of damage they had done to each other. It must have been pretty bad, Clint mused, for the looks of shock had been priceless. They made a well matched pair, anyone could see that. Anyone who was able to take on Clint, one of the best assassins in S.H.I.E.L.D., was a force to be reckoned with and vise versa.

Natasha was looking forward for some time to clean up before meeting these people, whoever they were. A little breather would be nice after a workout as intense as that one.

"Natasha, I hate to break it to you, but we don't have time to clean up before we meet Director Fury."

How that man knew what she was thinking was rather disturbing, and it had happened more than once before. If she could figure him out, it might be better, but she couldn't. She could always figure people out, but not him.

"Do I at least get to wipe the blood of my face, Barton? Because if so, I would suggest you do the same."

He laughed, she was a sass. It had been a while since someone had made him laugh, and he was a bit surprised that it had been her.

"There is a bathroom right over there, clean off what you can in five minutes, and then we really have to go."

She nodded and made her way to the door he had pointed at across the hall. When she looked at her reflection, she gasped a bit. She had taken just as much as a beating as he had. There were cuts and bruises lining her face, it was a miracle that she hadn't lost any teeth. Well, she thought ruefully to herself, it was good to finally find someone that evenly matched her skill set. If truth be told, she had never had someone like that, since she had become fully trained that is. It was a welcome relief, to finally have a challenge.

Natasha grinned at herself in the mirror, this was going to be a fun job. She cleaned all the blood off her face, noting which cuts might need stitches. She could feel other cuts on her body that she guessed would need stitches as well. She could be satisfied that Barton needed some medical attention too, he had taken just as much of a beating from her as she had from him.

As they walked through the dark hallways of the base, Natasha became a bit curious. This place was huge, and she wanted to explore all of it. Maybe if she asked, Barton would show her around a bit.

They stopped at a door with the word "Fury" on it. This she assumed was Director Fury's office, or something of the sort. Without knocking, Barton opened the door and ushered her inside. This room was dark too, with a long table and many chairs. There was a big communicator screen on the wall, as well as an advanced computer system on the side. This place was high tech, with all the new fancy toys. Natasha wanted to play with them.

A tall man stood up as they entered. He was dark skinned, muscular, and his face was hard. She was surprised to see that one of his eyes was covered with an eyepatch, this man had seen battle. He was not someone that she wanted to cross.

"Agent Barton, Miss Romanoff, glad to see you could make it."

This man was speaking in English, Natasha smoothly and effortlessly made the switch.

"Director Fury, hope we aren't too late. We got a bit carried away during training today, as I'm sure you guessed."

"Yes, Agent Barton, I can see that. After lunch, go to the medical ward and get yourself stitched up, understood?"

"Yes, sir. I was wondering, are you going to introduce Natasha to the rest of the people here, or are you planning on leaving her hanging?"

"Sit down, both of you, and I will gladly start. Food is by your places, so go ahead and start eating."

This was going to be a strained meeting, Natasha just knew it.

**Thank you to all that have favorited me and/or put my story on alert. It is much appreciated :) Could you guys be lovely and give me some feedback pretty please? It would be much appreciated. I would like to know how I'm doing. Thanks to Animus et Anima for the kind reviews as well as Sofia Bee. It means a lot guys :)**


	6. A Strained Meeting Indeed

**Author's Note: Here is another chapter, the meeting between Natasha and her new coworkers, what fun. I hope you enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that are familiar to you, such as Natasha, Clint, and any of the Avengers in later chapters. I do own any characters that do come out of that pretty little head of mine. **

She didn't touch her food, for fear of someone having put something in it. She already had the feeling that Director Fury disliked her immensely and she wouldn't put it past him to slip something into her lunch.

"Well, I suppose we can begin. This is Agent Maria Hill, she is my right hand. If you get in her way, or mine, you will have to deal with me. In your position, that's not something that you want to do."

Natasha gave this Agent Hill a once over. She was average height and weight. She did have a pretty face though, but it was marred by her constant frown. She had brown hair that was twisted up, with bangs that framed her pretty blue eyes. If she wasn't giving Natasha the death glare, Agent Hill just might be considered pretty.

"Well, Ms. Romanoff, I can't say that I'm pleased to meet you, but I hear that you'll be an asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. Let's hope that's true."

Natasha smiled sweetly back at her, "Well, I can't say it's nice to meet you either. I usually don't have a thing for suck ups."

Clint kicked her under the table, this was the type of stuff that would get her killed. Giving the second in command sass and sarcasm would get her nowhere but a coffin. He turned to Director Fury to assess the seriousness of this situation. He was surprised to see a small smirk on his face.

"I'm sure you two will learn to get along, eventually. And this, is Agent Barton's handler, Agent Phil Coulson. He is to be your handler too, when the time comes that you will be put in the field."

Agent Coulson shot her a smile. He seemed like a nice man. Balding, in his mid thirties, lean but with slight muscular undertones.

"Natasha, I can say that I'm very glad to meet you. I have heard a good deal about you from Agent Barton, here, and I can't wait to get to know you better. I'm all for second chances, so to me, you have a clean slate. I'm on your side here, you won't get any hostility from me."

Clint was right, there were some people that would actually care. She was actually looking forward to getting to know this man.

"Since we all know each other here, let's get down to business, shall we? Miss Romanoff, since Agent Barton, the idiot that he was, decided that you should be spared, we have a certain dilemma. Do we use you, or not? I have a difficult time trusting you, since you are a cold blooded mercenary assassin and all. I think that you will do more harm than good to this organization, and Agent Hill agrees. Agents Coulson and Barton have a much different opinion. They believe that you will be an amazing asset to us. Try and prove them right, if you can."

"Well, Director, I owe Agent Barton my life. That in and of itself is something that I take quite seriously. This might just be another job, but he gave me my life. It is something that I will not uselessly throw away."

It was a relief to hear Natasha say that. He knew that she would push her boundaries because that was just who she was,but he also knew that she would stay within the limits. She didn't want to lose the life that she was given, and she would do what she must to preserve it.

"I assume that Agent Barton went over the ground rules with you?"

"Yes, and he made them perfectly clear."

"Good, so you do understand that if you make any sort of mistake, I will have no problem killing you."

"That is understood, Director."

"Well, I think that's all I have for you today. You will be meeting with Agent Coulson later this week to assess your work situation and such. If he signs off on you, I don't see why you can't go on missions. I need Agent Barton back in the field, and as his partner, you will go with him. There will come a time when you will be called for separate missions, but for now, you will work together."

Agent Hill cleared her throat and gave Natasha a glare, "If I might say something, Director."

Fury glanced at her, clearly annoyed, but nodded his consent.

"I don't think that Ms. Romanoff is stable enough to start going out in the field. What happens if she turns on us out there?"

Clint took the opportunity to speak up, "She is Agent Romanoff now, just like you and me. And I know that she will not turn on us. She owes me a life debt, and if I'm with you, so is she. I believe that she will keep her word on this one."

Agent Hill sneered at Clint, "Of course _you _of all people would think that. You didn't even have the self control to kill a target! She became a human to you when she should've been a target, that's it. You're losing your touch."

He slammed his fist on the table and stood up, "You didn't see her, Maria! You weren't there, so don't you dare make judgements on my decision. Have I ever steered you wrong? I made a judgement call from what I believe is right."

"She's a master assassin, Clint! She's a professional actress!"

"I was just like her, Maria! Exactly like her! And don't you dare go on about mistakes and losing my touch. What about the mistake that cost Agent Martin his life! What about that one?"

Agent Hill stared at him in stunned silence. He had gone there, he had gone too far. She threw a punch, which he easily dodged. Just as she swung again, someone caught her arm and spun her around. Natasha was staring at her with fire in her eyes.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Agent Hill. Like Clint said, I owe him a life debt. If you go at him again, I will hurt you."

Clint grabbed Natasha's shoulders and slowly backed away from Agent Hill. He held on tight to her, hoping that she wouldn't lunge at Maria again.

Director Fury stood up, "Well, that's enough. You are all dismissed before you either kill each other or ruin my conference room. Out, now."

Clint took Natasha's hand and started dragging her to the door before she could get into any more trouble. He could hear Agent Hill following close behind them, so he started walking faster. He knew that if she said one more thing, Natasha would happily punch her in the face.

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews, they are much appreciated. Reviews are like oxygen for a writer and they encourage me to write faster :) Also, I like to know how I'm doing. Thanks again for favs, reviews, and alerts they all mean a lot!**


	7. Cuts and Memories

**Two chapters in one day, you lucky readers! I suppose I'm just in writing mode today :) Enjoy and please let me know what you think.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Natasha, Clint, or in future chapters the Avengers. All I own are any characters that come from that pretty little mind of mine. **

They got back to the apartment without incident. The hallway was deserted. Clint turned to Natasha, "The apartment had a key code and mine just expired. You can make it whatever you want, as long as you tell me what it is."

"Aleksandr, A-L-E-K-S-A-N-D-R."

As he typed the letters in, he wondered who Aleksandr was. Was he a family member? A past boyfriend? A target? He didn't know and he was tempted to ask, but he knew that in time she would tell him herself.

As they entered into the apartment, Natasha stopped Clint, "What about the medical bay? I don't really trust doctors and I think I can do most of it myself. If you have a suture kit, I think I can manage."

"Go put on some sweats, and I'll fix you up. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready."

She walked into the bedroom to get changed. There were a few sets of clothes neatly folded on the bed, as well as a pair of pajamas. She chose a shirt with a Red Sox logo on it, obviously this was Clint's. Her sweatpants were a bit small and fit her a bit better than the ones that she had worn the night before. She made a note to talk to Clint about either having someone get some of her old clothes, or getting new ones.

She entered the kitchen to see him in a pair of sweatpants and no shirt. She had certainly given him quite a beating, as could be seen by the many cuts and bruises lining his chest and torso. It had been a fight, to be sure.

"Well, you sure banged me up, Tasha. I have to say, I don't think I've had that much fun in a long time. So, let's get you stitched up so that you can go. That nasty cut on your forehead needs some work, get up on the counter so that I can see it better."

She hopped up on the counter and groaned, her body was going to have a fit in the morning.

He disinfected her cut and started stitching her up. His movements were very smooth and precise, like he had done this many times before. He looked so focused, so concentrated as he did the task at hand. As he cut the thread one last time, Natasha started to talk.

"I had just turned eight, it was my birthday. It was the last time that I ever remember being truly happy."

He paused and put the scissors down. He looked into her eyes, giving her his full attention.

"I had a party that year. My mother dressed me in this beautiful dress, it was pink and frilly. I absolutely loved it. She curled my hair, it was red like it usually is, and tied part of it up with a pink ribbon. She said that I looked like the Grand Duchess Anastasia from a long time ago, beautiful in every way."

"My little brother, Aleksandr, was four at the time. He was a sweet little boy and I was his favorite out of my four older sisters. My father took him to the store early that morning and he bought me a red balloon. He was so proud of his gift, because he had picked it out all by himself. My birthday is September 8th, so it was starting to get cold. His little cheeks were red from being outside for so long."

"My sisters gave me a cross necklace that they had saved up to buy for me for months. It was silver, with pretty little diamonds making almost a sash across the cross. I kept it, all these years. They were so proud of getting something for me with their own money."

"I had a tea party with all my little friends. Little sandwiches, little cakes, little cookies. It was the grandest thing I had ever seen. Everyone dressed up and celebrating, just for me. I don't have many memories left, but that one I still have. The next week, they took me away and killed my family to get me to do what they wanted, I haven't had a happy day since."

She hadn't realized that she had reverted to Russian, but he had. He gave her a sad smile and put some gel-like substance on her stitches and on the other cuts on her face. It felt cool and soothing on her cuts and scrapes.

"I noticed you prefer to speak Russian, I don't mind. When it is just the two of us, or when we are in the apartment, we can speak it. Deal?"

"Thanks, that would be nice."

"Now, do you have any other cuts or scrapes I need to attend to? This stuff is all purpose medigel, it will heal most cuts and bruises within a day or two and leave no scars. The cut on your forehead will take a little longer, I'm afraid, but it still won't scar."

"I think you got them all, thanks. Do you want me to take care of you, now? You have a pretty nasty cut along your jaw that needs to be stitched. And don't worry, I have quite a bit of medical training, so I won't let you scar."

He smiled again and then grimaced, yep that cut definitely needed to be attended to.

"Okay, just stand right there. If I'm on the counter, I can reach it better."

She proceed to string the tiny needle with practiced hands, she had definitely done this a couple times before. Natasha took her time with the cut, making sure that she did it right.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four. And you can have another question, that one was a freebie."

"Not right now, tell me about our living arrangements while we are in St. Petersburg."

"You get the bedroom, I get the floor since I really don't have a couch or anything."

She frowned, that didn't seem quite fair. This was his apartment, after all, and he was letting her stay here.

"That doesn't seem fair to you, this is your house."

"But there is no way I'm letting you sleep on the floor and I don't see any other options."

"It's a big bed, big enough to share. I promise that I'm not trying to do anything, I just feel badly about you sleeping on the floor. I know you will respect my sleeping space and I will respect yours. What do you say?"

As Natasha finished fixing him up, he was lost in thought. It could possibly work, it wasn't like he wanted to sleep with her or anything. It didn't matter what Director Fury thought because he wasn't here and he saw no better option. It wasn't like he was looking forward to sleeping on the floor on and off for the next two or three months.

"Okay, I think that will work just fine."

She put the gel stuff on his face, too. He had some nasty bruises and cuts that needed to start healing.

"What's on the agenda for the rest of the day?"

Clint shrugged, "Anything you want, I suppose."

"Are you allowed to show me around?"

"I don't see why not. Grab something from the fridge while I got put a shirt on. Yes, Nat, I did notice that you didn't even touch your food at lunch; not that I blame you though."

Natasha smiled, exploring somewhere as big as this was bound to be exciting.

**Thanks to Jaymie for the review. I would have thanked you over PM, but you aren't registered. So anyway, that you for the review. I really appreciated it! Thanks to Acrylate for the review as well. Glad you are enjoying it. Hopefully more people will tell me what they think about my story, pretty please :)**


	8. Explorations and Conversations

**Author's Note: Another chapter for my readers! After this one, I might take a couple days to update because I am volunteering at my church's VBS and working evenings. Don't despair though, it's just for a week then quicker updates will resume once again. Enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Natasha, Clint, or in chapters wayyy in the future, the Avengers. What I do own are any charters that come out of that pretty little mind of mine :) **

After putting their uniforms back on and having a quick bite to eat, they were ready to go.

"So, Nat, where do you wanna start first?"

There was so much she was curious about, where should they even start?

"I don't want a regular tour of the place, I want to see the places that really matter. The places that you go to relax and cool off. Those are the places I want to know about."

"Okay, then let's go."

He led her through the vast, dark hallways, always keeping to the shadows to avoid meeting anyone. He knew exactly where he would take her first; it had no real significance to him, but he knew that it would to her. They walked until they stopped seeing people, this area of the base was virtually deserted. There was a single door at the end of the corridor which they entered.

As Clint turned on the lights, Natasha gasped at what she saw. It was a ballet studio, equipped with a barre, hardwood floors, and a full length mirror. It might be in need of a little dusting, but it was in mint condition.

"This place was installed for when there were more Russians on the base than there were Americans. It's not used much anymore, but it's still here. I found it after I got in a fight with Agent Hill and needed somewhere to cool down. It was nice and quiet, and she couldn't find me."

Natasha smiled, so he didn't like Agent Hill much, either. That was a welcome relief.

"On to the next sight, Nat. Ready?"

As they made their way through the base in the shadows once again, Natasha was deep in thought. How had he known that ballet was her escape? Then the answer dawned on her, he had been watching her for months. He must have seen when she posed as a ballet dancer in one of Russia's big ballet companies. That had been a good job, she had gotten to do what she loved for a few months. A tap on her shoulder shook her out of her thoughts.

"This is the library, I come here a lot. Not many other agents do, but I find it nice here."

She looked around, there were books on shelves floor to ceiling. There were Russian titles, English titles, books in any language really.

"This is how I keep up with all my languages; reading them keeps my fluent."

"You must read a lot of Russian then, to be so fluent."

He smiled, he'd tell her that story later.

"Not really, not nearly as often as I should."

She frowned, then how did he keep his Russian so perfect? Maybe Clint was just a natural at Russian, though she found that difficult to believe.

"I have one more place I want to show you today, and then we need to have dinner. We can explore more if you want tomorrow."

Clint lead her through more hallways and up many flights of stairs to reach their final destination. He turned to her and said, "You're lucky it's summer."

What was that supposed to mean? Where was he taking her that mattered what season it was?

The door at the top of the steps opened, to reveal the roof. It wasn't like just any roof though, there was a garden on it. It was lush and beautiful, obviously someone had taken the time to take care of it. There was a small fountain making the beautiful sound of running water, and a little bench that could fit two, looking out over the ledge.

"This place is yours, isn't it?"

Clint shrugged, "No one goes up to this part of the roof, so I asked Director Fury if I could make myself a little place. I've been in Russia on and off for the past few years, tracking you each time; not that I knew it back then. You were just a shadow, a whispered name. Anyway, if you ever can't find me, look up here first."

Natasha nodded and sat down on the bench, from up here she had a bird's eye view. After a few minutes, she felt Clint sit next to her.

"You really are like a bird, aren't you? You like to be up high and see things from a distance and then swoop in when the time is right."

"I guess you could say that, ya. Up here is my vantage point, so to speak. I'm always up high, always watching."

"I have two questions."

"Well I have two answers, ask away."

"I need clothes."

"I thought about that one. I guess I could go out and get you some either today or tomorrow if you'd like."

That was a nice thought, but she really didn't want just any clothes. She wanted some from her old life. Well, not the clothes exactly, but some of the other things.

"Well, I was thinking...there are some things that I want from my old apartment and I was wondering if you could get them for me. I know Director Fury won't let me anywhere near my old place, so I'm not even going to ask to go myself."

"What exactly is it that you want?"

"There is a suitcase under the bed that is packed full of stuff. It's things I've salvaged over the years. Aleksandr's baby blanket, the cross necklace my sisters gave me, stuff like that. It also has just some normal clothes that I just take with me for the in between times, when I don't have a mission. It doesn't have any weapons, I promise, but feel free to search it when you get back if you must."

Fury would kill him if he found out that he was going to do this. He just wouldn't find out, Clint decided. No one would.

"Okay, I'll do it, but you can't tell anyone. I would get in big trouble if Fury or Agent Hill finds out. And, are there any weapons that we can have made for you?"

"Thanks, Clint," she smiled. "As for weapons, I'll draw you out the design while you're out. They are called Widow's Bites and Widow's Line, and are my own inventions. I'll explain them to you later."

"You are a smart girl, Nat. I'm looking forward to seeing this design of yours. And now, I'm ready to give the second answer when you are ready to give the second question."

She didn't know if she should ask this one, it might bring back some things that he didn't want to talk about. Barton had said that she could ask him anything, though, so why not this one?

"What happened to Agent Martin? What did Agent Hill do that was so bad?"

He knew that was coming, so he shouldn't be surprised, but he was. Tasha was a very observant girl, she must have picked that up in his yelling match with Maria earlier that day.

"Agent Grant Martin was one of the best of the best, and so was his wife Amy. They actually trained Maria and turned her into a top notch agent. Grant was sent on a mission in Madrid, and Maria was his handler. He got compromised and asked for an out because he knew that they way things were headed, innocent lives would be lost. Maria wouldn't give it to him, she told him to finish the job. The Spanish drug cartel found out who he was and used their connections to capture his wife and kids. They were tortured and eventually killed to make a statement. Grant ended up getting himself killed because he couldn't handle losing them all at once. It was Maria's fault and she knows it. I don't think she ever forgave herself for that mistake. It was a low blow to aim at her."

"But why was she his handler and not the other way around?"

"Maria thought that she wanted to be a handler instead of a field agent. Since Grant was a field agent, he said that he would be willing to be in Maria's charge. She had gone through all the extra training and everything. It was well established in her mind that a handler had control over her field agent, but if her charge feels uncomfortable, he gets pulled out of the field. She wanted so badly to do well on that mission, that she forgot everything else."

The suck up Agent Hill had made a mistake. A deadly one that had cost an entire family their lives. And here she was, convinced that Maria was one of those perfect people; never making a mistake. She still didn't like that woman, no matter what she had been through.

"Well, it's getting dark. Why don't we make some dinner and then I'll go get your suitcase, okay?"

"Sounds fine to me, Barton. Let's go."

As they made their way back to the apartment, many thoughts swirled through Natasha's head. Many of those thoughts were questions that she planned on bombarding Clint with during dinner. What she didn't realize was, that just as many questions swirled through his head as well. Many of which he wouldn't ask for quite some time.

**Some questions were answered here, hope that enlightened you a little bit :) Thanks to HSky16 for the review, I shall try my best. Acrylate, did that answer your question sufficiently? Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and alerts. Please drop me a line and let me know what you think so far. Anything I can improve on? Anything you really liked? **


	9. Dinner Conversations and Weaponry

**Author's Note: Hey guys, I really apologize for the fact that this has been a long time coming. I went on vacation and then got hit by a car while I was on vacation, so I've taken some time to recover from that. Without further ado, the next chapter awaits you.**

After entering the apartment, Clint went into the kitchen to make dinner and Natasha followed.

"So, what do you want for dinner? I can make some Russian dishes if you'd like one of those. We can have whatever, it doesn't really matter to me."

"I'm sick of Russian, can you make American food? I would kill for a pizza. Do you by any chance know how to make those?"

"I don't think I have all the ingredients, we can get them next time we go to the store. I have American frozen pizza, does that work?"

Natasha grinned, any type of pizza was good with her. "Yep, that works."

"Okay, I have pepperoni, cheese, vegetarian, and tomato mozzarella. Take your pick."

"Hmmm, pepperoni would be good. What can I do to help?"

"You could set the table, I suppose. The glasses and plates are in the top cupboard to the left of the stove, napkins are already on the table, and I don't think we will be using forks and knives."

In fifteen minutes, the pizza was ready and they were sitting down at the small table. They quickly dug into the food and ended up eating the entire pizza in no time.

"So, tell me about these inventions of yours. Widow's Bite and Widow's Line, right?"

"Yep, you got it. So, the design is simple, two cuff like bracelets that I can wear over the arms of my catsuit. I have fingerless leather gloves that would add to the effect, they're in that suitcase. Anyway, I'll start with the Widow's Bite. It is basically an energy blast that is capable of putting out a 30,000 volt electrical discharge that can reach up to a distance of about ten feet. It's a nasty little guy, if you get in it's way."

Clint simply stared at the young woman sitting in front of him. She invented THAT? She was eighteen and had already invented advanced weaponry. What did those Russians teach kids in spy school these days?

"Then you have my Widow's Line, it's useful for getting out of tricky situations. It's my escape route if I have no other options. It's a spring-loaded cable capable of shooting a hooked wire about a hundred feet that enables me to swing to another building or something of the sort. I don't like to use it, but I will if I have to."

"The design of the bracelets is simple. Cuff- like bracelets with things that look like really large bullets on them. These will be black of course, just like my original ones. My lovely little bracelets are also capable of firing gas and explosive pellets, among other things, for when life gets a little more complicated."

This little spider was dangerous, far more that Clint had even imagined. With a mind like that and no loyalties, well none besides him now, she could do serious damage in the wrong hands. Correction, she could do even more serious damage if put into the wrong hands.

"While I'm at your apartment, or should I say Klara's, I'm going to bring along any evidence that would suggest that you aren't who you said you were. Any weaponry or anything else that might suggest that you're, well, an assassin needs to be brought back with me. I'm going to leave you with a cellphone when I go, so that I can call you and ask you where everything is. Does that sound good?"

Natasha shrugged, "I guess it might be for the best. I was actually looking forward to reading a newspaper with Klara's name on the front page. I would have been entertained, to say the least."

Clint shook his head, what was he going to do with that girl?

"So I showed you mine, now you show me yours. I know those arrows of yours aren't your standard issue, I've experienced a few of them for myself."

He smirked, she has a point. He got up and retrieved his bow and quiver from the corner.

"Well, to start out, I designed these with Tony Stark. I had the ideas, I just didn't have the technological skill to make it happen. Have you heard of Mr. Stark?"

"Ah yes, Tony Stark, the playboy, genius, billionaire, philanthropist. That Tony Stark? He likes his cars fast and his women hot."

"And you would know this much how?"

"I met him when he was in Moscow last year. He was a pain in the ass. Kept trying to hit on me."

"Yes, um, I'm sure you made the best of it."

"Meaning did I sleep with him? Ya right. So, he helped you develop these babies."

"Uh, yeah he did. I've met with him a couple times and he made it happen. So, I guess I'll explain the bow first. There's a spring loaded device in the bow that holds the different arrowheads. I have a two finger positive pressure lock that responds solely to my touch. It enables me to change the arrowhead before I shoot, to any that I choose. I had something installed into my iris that lets me keep track of what arrowheads I have left, in what order, and how many arrows are in my quiver."

"You really take these things seriously, don't you?"

"Just as seriously as you take your weapons. May I continue?"

"Go right ahead, I'm not stopping you."

"I have at least twenty types of arrowheads, but I'm just going to outline the most important ones. There's the boomerang arrow, I like that one. It has a homing circuitry- controlled device with a weight shifting mechanism, so if I end up needing to change the speed and impact after it's in the air, I can. Then there is my rocket arrowhead, that one can give you a run for your money. It has a small, solid-fuel missile head with various payloads up to around two pounds."

Clint showed her various other arrows that could do anything and everything. She was amazed that arrows, given the right arrow head, could be just as effective as any other weapon.

"I wasn't expecting anything to this caliber. Here I was thinking that you just had a couple different arrows," she smiled. "You need to get to that apartment and get my supplies before someone else does. I've been gone for a couple of days now, and people that you might not like are going to start looking for me."

"Well, I suppose I should get going to your apartment. The stuff you need is under the bed, right?"

"Yep, you do know which apartment is mine, I hope."

"Like I said, I've been watching you for some time. Until you started acting differently when you were alone, I didn't know if it was actually you or not. It took about three weeks into your assignment."

She hadn't known that he had taken so long to watch her, get to know her. She knew that he had been watching her, but not so minutely. His attention to detail was extraordinary, there was a reason that he was called the hawk.

"Put this in your ear, and I'll call it when I get there. You will hear beeping and then my voice, you don't have to do anything. I shouldn't be too long."

"Be careful, I don't know how many curious perspective employers are looking for me at the moment. Just get the stuff and get out, okay."

He smiled at her, they were becoming fast friends. He could tell that she was worried about him, and that comforted him greatly.

"I'll go as fast as I can, Nat, don't worry about me. I can promise you that I know what I'm doing."

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, more to come soon, I pinky promise! If you don't mind, please review and let me know how you like it and what I could do to make this story better. I'm not gonna be one of those authors that says "so many reviews and I'll update". Instead, I'm just gonna ask nicely :) **


	10. The Alias' Apartment

**Author's Note: Just a quick chapter to keep you all satisfied until the weekend when I will get a chance to write some more. Classes started this week, so I was a bit busy with all that. Summer is officially over, well it was fun while it lasted. I would have updated sooner, but I had a bit of an accident with the stairs that required stitches. This one was my fault, kinda. To answer RealOrigional's question: I really don't have an update schedule or anything. I update when I have time and not working or in school. I'd say that I am going to start trying to update regularly on the weekends. Also, thanks to Dana for the greetings from Brazil! Thank you for the reviews, they made my day when I got them :)**

Clint took a quinjet from Saint Petersburg to Moscow and then a car to Natasha's old apartment. He was sure that Fury wouldn't be happy when he found out that he took an unauthorized trip, but this had to be done now.

Natasha's, or more accurately Klara's, apartment was on the top floor of the building. It had an optimal view of the street below. From the windows of her apartment, he knew that anyone could see everyone coming in or out of the building. He had to admit, Natasha picked her residences well. She always thought everything out, even the minutest details.

After Clint quickly picked the lock, he looked around for he had never been inside before. It was a large studio apartment, very open, and everything was strategically placed to her advantage. Every piece of furniture was in a certain position, either to shield her from an attack or to be used as a weapon.

It looked lived in, though, and to a normal eye nothing was out of the ordinary. There were nicknacks and things, just like any other living area. She had chosen mostly blues and greys for the accents and everything was in a precise location. The mirrors on the walls provided an advantage of who was coming through the door, even if her back was turned. Clint was impressed, she really was talented.

He pressed the button on his earpiece to call Natasha, she answered on the first ring. "Clint, are you in yet?"

"Yep, I'm in. Seriously Nat, a studio apartment? Are you **that** paranoid?"

He heard her huff at the other end, "It never hurts to be cautious. I just want to be able to see everything, just in case I get any unwanted visitors. Anyway, down to business, the bags are under the bed. Get out as quickly as you can, okay?"

He smiled, "You worry too much, Tasha, I'll be just fine."

Clint hung up the communicator and got under the bed to get the bags. Instead of two bags, like she had told him, there were three. He was about to open them, when he heard a noise coming from the front door. He swore under his breath, and picked up the bags as best he could. That was when he noticed something written on his hand. It read, "Go into the closet, pull purple dress."

She was always prepared for the worst, which Clint was extremely grateful for at the moment. He swiftly walked into the closet and pulled on the one purple dress. It revealed a hidden stairway behind her clothes. He got in and closed the door before the intruder even had a chance to pick the lock on the front door. After that, it was quite easy to get out of the building undetected. The stairway had led him to a door in the back of the building, where he could easily reach the car. There were men standing guard out back. They saw him and started made a dash for it, using various objects to shield him from the oncoming bullets. He finally got to the car and got in on the passenger side. Clint swiftly gunned the engine, he had to get out of there before anyone came after him and be back before Director Fury noticed his absence.

Getting to the landing strip without being followed was like second nature to Clint. He was good with cars, and weaving in and out of heavy traffic quickly and efficiently was his speciality. Clint lost the tail in about five blocks, he could have lost it faster but he had planned perfectly. The light on that street was tricky, causing traffic to quickly build up both ways. All he had to do was squeeze into a tight spot turning right, which was promptly filled by another car. He was gone into thin air before the tail could even blink.

The flight back to the Russian base was quick and uneventful. Any other day, Clint may have wanted to take the long way back, to enjoy his freedom, but he didn't have that privilege today. He knew that Fury would find out about his little trip sooner or later, but he prefered it to be later. Another confrontation with a man that he considered somewhat of a friend was not something he was looking forward to. They had never been on opposing sides of something as important as a woman's life before, and he really didn't like it. The problem was, Clint would not be the one changing his mind and neither would Nick, unless he was completely convinced of Natasha's loyalty. He sighed, these problems would sort themselves out somehow, one way or another.

He got inside the building and into their apartment without being detected. It still threw him for a loop every time he entered the new code to get inside. The lights were dimmed and the place was tidied up a bit. He put the three bags on the table, they could look at them in the morning.

Natasha was asleep in his bed, wearing one of Clint's many shirts. She was on the right side, perfect. He prefered the side closest to the door, so he could be out faster at any sign of commotion. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and crawled into bed, he was exhausted. With training, the meeting with Fury, and everything else he did, he was worn thin. Tomorrow was a free day, so Clint planned on helping Nat unpack and possibly take her to explore the rest of the base. He settled into a dreamless sleep, exhausted, but happy.

**Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will be longer and have more content. I just need to double check a few things before I post it and I don't really have time to do that before the weekend. Again, not demanding reviews, but they do make me happy and motivate me to get back to writing. I welcome criticism because I want to improve this story. See you Friday or Saturday **

**-Ka**


	11. Nightmares and Meetings

**Author's Note: Just like I promised, another chapter. And this one's longer. Thank you guys for all your wonderful reviews, you rock. Special shout out to the reader RealOriginal. Your reviews have been most kind. I spent some time on this one, so I hope you enjoy it. Oh and I don't own anything. This is just for kicks.**

A few hours later he was jolted awake by Natasha's cries. By the looks of it, a nightmare was plaguing her. Tears were streaming down her face and she was muttering chopped sentences in Russian. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently, trying to pull her out of her nightmare.

"Natasha, wake up, it's just a dream. Come on, you can do it."

Finally, her eyes shot open. She looked around, breathing heavily. This one had plagued her for years, haunting her, never letting her get a good night's sleep unless she was undercover or medicated. Her eyes met his beautiful blue ones and she at once felt some semblance of calm washed over her for a moment. She sobbed harder than ever, all she could see was Aleksandr's face swimming before her. Pleading for her to help him, before they killed him. His death was her fault, as were many other deaths. All the people she had killed over the years, the guilty and the innocent. It all started with her family, and it would never end. She was an assassin, and she could never be anything else. Her mother used to tell her that she could only be just who she was, no more, no less. Most days, there was nothing left of her old self, the sweet little girl who would've grown up to be a sweet woman with a family. But, once in awhile, a sliver of her old self shone through. At the moments right between waking and sleeping, parts of her old self were visible. This was such a time.

She let him scoop her up, and hold her in his arms. Ten years of walls were crumbling, in front of a man that she was just beginning to call her friend. She clung to him, with everything she had. Clint rocked her back and forth as her pain consumed her for the first time in her life. He whispered words of nonsense in her native language as he held tight.

Natasha, the Black Widow, was in his arms and broken. Instinctually, he knew that she had never show her vulnerabilities to anyone before. He held her until she drifted off into sleep, marveling at the fact that this mysterious woman was slowly becoming the most important person in his life.

In the morning, Natasha woke up in Clint's arms. For the first time since she had been taken, she wasn't plagued by nightmares the last half of the night. It was an unusual feeling, not bad, simply unusual. While she was in his arms, she slowly rebuilt the walls that she had broken down the night before. She slowly became less of a human and more of an assassin.

He was awake hours before Natasha. He looked down to see her asleep in his arms, and something just felt right. He didn't know what felt so right, she was quickly becoming a good friend, she couldn't be something more. He had to draw a line somewhere, he needed to keep her in his life as long as possible. Yes, other agents had romantic relationships with each other, but they were partners. A romantic relationship could compromise everything that they were building, and he wouldn't let it happen. He would be there for her as much as possible, he just could never love her.

Clint stroked her hair, so that she wouldn't be so confused when she woke up. It was soft and smooth. He liked it better when it was red, but it was beautiful either way. He knew when she was awake, and she knew what she was doing. Everything that had broken the night before was slowing being reassembled. He made no remark, just let her put herself back together.

She locked the last pieces of her vulnerability away and pushed it to the back of her mind. She would not be broken today, she would be strong. Finally, she opened her eyes and immediately met his. In them, she could see understanding, knowledge of what she had been doing. He knew that she was piecing herself back together, and she could see the acceptance.

When she sat up, he broke the silence, "Hey Nat, ready for breakfast? I'll make you whatever you want, just ask. I can do Russian if you so choose, or American. What do you feel like?"

Natasha smiled, considering her many options. "No more Russian, for the better part of my life all I've eaten is Russian. Can you make pancakes?"

"One of my many specialities. Your luggage is on the table, don't worry I didn't open any of them. I grabbed three bags since there were three under the bed. Go grab a shower and get dressed. Today is a pretty laid back day, just meeting Coulson and then we are free."

"I won't use all the hot water, promise."

After taking the bags to the bedroom, she hopped into the shower. Clint had actually done her a favor by grabbing all of the bags under her bed. The last bag was one of her backup stashes of money, one hundred thousand in multiple currencies. She didn't know if she wanted to tell Clint about it or not. As she stepped out of the shower, she resolved to tell him. He was her friend, after all, the first that she had really made since she was taken. Wrapped in a towel, she left the bathroom adjoining the bedroom. She chose some dark jeans, a white t shirt, and some American shoes called Converse. She pulled her long, chestnut hair into a loose braid; a standard when she was not on assignment. She missed being a redhead though, maybe she should talk to Clint about it during breakfast.

Pancakes, such a simple thing. Of all the things she could have asked him to make, she wanted pancakes. When she said it, her eyes lit up. Clint shook his head, a woman such as Natasha getting excited over something as simple as pancakes.

He wondered what was in the third bag, but he knew that she would tell him when she was ready. For some reason, he trusted her, even after knowing her for such a short time. He thought that maybe this trust stemmed mostly from her trust in him the night before. Breaking down like that was not something easily done, especially with a stranger. He was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of her laugh.

"I wasn't expecting a variety! How many different types of pancakes did you make, Clint?"

"Well, I made the standard plain pancakes, blueberry, chocolate chip, and pumpkin spice. I made a big batch and then added this and that, so we have a few different kinds for the next few days. I didn't know what you liked, either, so I thought a variety might be a good idea."

"I'll set the table, and then we can eat. I want to talk about some things, if you don't mind."

"Thank you, and sure. If you need to talk about something, I'll listen."

They sat down to a big breakfast of pancakes. It surprised Clint just how much that girl could eat. She was a stick, and yet she could eat just as much as he could, maybe even more.

"Have you ever had pancakes before? Nat, I know for a fact that you've been to America several times and you've never once had pancakes. That I don't know if I can believe."

"I always went there for work, and you know my job. It was get the kill and get out of there as fast as I possibly could. I didn't have time to go to a restaurant and get pancakes just for the heck of it."

He shook his head, never had pancakes before. He knew that Natasha had been to America at least twenty five times on different jobs, and yet she had never had pancakes. There was a lot that they had to do when he took her back to the States.

"Clint, I'm sick of having brown hair. Every time I look in the mirror, I see Klara staring back at me. I know it seems stupid, but this is a clean start for me, I don't want my last job staring at me in the mirror. That part of my life is over now, I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and I'm ready for a change."

That surprised him, he didn't think she would want to have red hair again. It had been a while, about a year, since she had been red, he knew from watching her. "Well, I don't see a problem with you changing your hair back to your natural color. We can go to the modification center after our meeting with Agent Coulson. I'm sure they would be more than happy to restore your original color."

"You mean I wouldn't have to dye it to my original color?"

He smiled, that was one thing he liked about working for S.H.I.E.L.D., the advanced technology. "Advanced technology, Nat, which is one of my favorite things about being an agent. There's stuff here that won't be officially invented for the next ten years, if at all."

"Well, that's a relief. I was thinking that I would have to dye it again. On a different subject, I'm sure you want to know what was in my bags. First bag, just clothes and stuff like that. Second bag, my weapons, don't worry, I left it on the counter for a reason. Third bag, some emergency cash, in case I ever needed a get away."

"I see you came well prepared. I suppose we will have to find a place for all this stuff. I'm gonna take a quick shower and get ready. Can you clean up the dishes?"

"Of course. Go, get ready, I got this."

Fifteen minutes later, they were going to find Agent Coulson in the vast expanse of the base. Natasha wondered what on earth this meeting was about. Was he going to tell her that she wasn't right for this program? Did she not pass up to the S.H.I.E.L.D. standards? Was this yet another test?

They reached Agent Coulson's office without meeting any other agents, just the way Clint had expected. He had purposefully taken back hallways and places that weren't regularly frequented by many agents. He knew that the hostility for Natasha had only grown since she'd been here, and until others got to really know her, it would stay that way. Until he was confident Nat wouldn't lash out, he decided it was best to keep her away from most people.

To unlock the door that allowed them access to Coulson's office, Clint had to swipe his ID card, put his thumb on a pad, have his retina scanned, and enter a code on a keypad. Natasha wondered why all this was necessary just to get into someone's office. What made Coulson so special? Director Fury's office had none of these, and he was in charge around this place, or was he?

They entered into a long hallway with many doors on each side. It seemed that they too had all the same security measures as the previous door, some even more. What was behind these mysterious doors? What secrets were hidden in here? She glanced at Clint with a question on her tongue, he shook his head and mouthed "No". She nodded, all her questions would be answered eventually, at least she hoped.

Suddenly, a door to left opened and Agent Coulson beckoned them in, while pointing to a device in his ear. They both sat in chairs facing his desk while he finished up the conversation.

"Yes, I know it's important that we wrap this up quickly and quietly. Give it a month more of observation, and then I will send a team in to sweep this all under the rug."

There was a pause before he started speaking again, "I don't care what the President of the United States wants, I've had years on the field and I've been watching this group for just about the same length of time. He doesn't know these guys like I do. Tell him what you will, but I play it my way. I know that he isn't used to people telling him no, but this is one of those times. We'll talk more later, I have things to do. Relay my regards to the President."

Another brief pause, "Yes, goodbye."

Agent Coulson turned to the pair, "Sorry to keep you waiting, there were some things I had to finish up. I suppose you are wondering why you're here, Natasha. Let me clear a few things up, you are not in trouble. You have shown considerable willingness to be integrated into this agency, and I for one have full confidence in you."

Well, so far this meeting was going much better than she had expected. Hopefully, it would stay that way.

"You have limited clearance, but I assume Agent Barton will be happy to answer any questions you may come up with. Don't worry, I won't tell Director Fury. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. First, I want to get the standard things cleared away. I'm going to scan your retina, fingerprint you, and get you an ID card. Those will gain you entrance to my office, among other places. Also, you are aware that you have a tracker implanted somewhere in your body. It's activated and working, according to the computer."

What was after the standard stuff? He seemed to be getting the easy stuff out of the way. What was really going on here? Natasha shifted uncomfortably in her chair, thoughts spinning through her mind.

Agent Coulson smiled at her, and pointed at one of the computer screens. "This shows your heart rate, location, body temperature, and brain activity. All the agents here have one, so that we can generally keep track of them. When they are in this building, they remain deactivated, as to give them what privacy we can. When they go on assignments or on errands, they are activated. You, on the other hand, are a different story. Your tracker is activated at all times. Eventually, I believe that you will be able to earn the privilege of having your tracker deactivated. It depends upon your behavior and my ability to trust you. Keep in mind, you can't trick me. I've been doing this job for longer than you've been alive, so pulling crap won't be tolerated. I like you, Natasha, and I believe that we can become close co workers, or maybe even friends. But I won't let that blind me to any behavior that i deem inappropriate. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, perfectly clear." Natasha realized that she was speaking Russian, so she quickly switched over to English. "I understand what you are saying, and I want you to know that I am committed to whatever job I am given. In this case, my commitments lie with Agent Barton. He saved my life, so I am completely loyal to him. If he is with S.H.I.E.L.D., then so am I."

Agent Coulson nodded, thinking about what she had said. Natasha Romanoff had known Clinton Barton for less than a week, and yet she was devoted to him. He supposed that no one had ever given her a second chance before. Perhaps, Clint was the first person to care for her in years. He was sure that they would form a strong relationship; she didn't love him, but she was committed. Together, Clint and Natasha could be unstoppable.

"Sounds fair enough, let's get your picture taken and you can fill out some information. Simple things like medical history and the like, so we can treat you quickly. Here are the forms, then we'll get to the good stuff."

He handed her a stack of forms with all the standard questions. Birthday, parents' names, medical history, allergies, medications taken. She finished pretty quickly, omitting some things that she wasn't quite ready to divulge. He then handed her an electronic pad, and scanned each of her fingerprints.

"Your fingerprints will let you into certain areas, including my office. Director Fury wants to restrict your access here, but I'm your handler and I want you to be able to come to me at any time. So, you do have access here, just don't mention it. Also, your prints will be removed from all systems besides ours, as will your DNA and scans of your retinas. It will be as if you don't even exist."

"I never existed in any database to begin with, so I already don't exist. I made sure of that when I went my own way. The Russian government's archives were mysteriously destroyed. The entire building was burnt down; I made sure everything was gone."

Agent Coulson shook his head, she was more thorough than anyone had given her credit for. What other events could be contributed to her? They knew so little about her, that she could've done many things they didn't know about. He decided to ask Clint what he knew. In an ordinary situation, the partner would bleed the new recruit dry of background information, which would be stored in the mainframe database. In this case, Coulson didn't believe that was the right path. Clint would get what information he could at a rate that Natasha was comfortable with, and then he would be told anything important. The information wouldn't be put in the mainframe, she was too valuable. He knew that Natasha wouldn't take very kindly to something that she viewed as betrayal. He couldn't take the chance that she might go rogue again.

"So that was you, huh? I can honestly say that I didn't expect that one."

Natasha smiled, "You know what they say, never judge a book by it's cover. I happen to have a few hidden talents."

"I'm going to scan your retinas, and then I need to talk to the both of you."

Clint turned to Natasha, her eyes were huge. She leaned towards Coulson, and let him do the quick scan. While he was entering all the information into various computers, she turned to Clint, with a look of panic in her eyes. He gave her and a quick squeeze, trying to let her know that Coulson was on their side. She nodded and turned back to face the desk, feeling a little more calm.

"I know you have only been partners for a few days, but there is a situation that has come up. I won't divulge the details just yet, but it is an assignment for the both of you. I will be watching for about a month, and if I feel that you are ready, I will send you out. This month I want you to work your hardest, be aware of all of each other's weaknesses. I want a seamless team that can communicate without words. I want you to prove to Director Fury that you are meant to be here, that you are meant to be with Clint. You earn my trust and respect. If I deem you two ready, I will personally make sure that you are sent out on this mission."

Clint spoke up for the first time, "Phil, I know you can't tell us the details of this mission, but could you at least tell us where it is we might be going?"

"Budapest."

**Thank you all for reading, hope you enjoyed it :) Wow, thirty one reviews, I never thought I'd get that far. I hope you guys will keep letting me know how I'm doing. Let me know what I could be doing better because I'd like to grow as a writer. Have a fantastic week!**

**-Kat**


	12. An Encounter with an Enemy and Guns

**Author's Note: Hey guys, surprise! It's a midweek update! I ended up getting sick, so what better to do than to write? I think I'll still update during the weekend, depending on how I'm feeling and such. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews from my last post, they totally blew me away! Ok, down to business. This takes place after the the meeting with Coulson wraps up. It's a lithe time break, but not a big one. I hope you enjoy! Oh and I don't own Clint and Natasha, although I wish I did. I do own any character that comes out of my pretty little mind, so please do not steal them. Thank you :)**

"Hey Nat, how about grabbing some lunch and then you are free to do whatever you want."

"Sounds fine, I want to head over to the library for a few hours, if you don't mind."

"Ya, go right ahead, I think I'm going to go the the archery room, so I'll go there while you go to the library. Do you remember how to get there?"

"I have every place we've been so far memorized, just in case I needed to get somewhere if you-," Natasha was cut off when someone jabbed their elbow into her side, knocking the wind right out of her.

She turned in a defensive pose, ready to strike back at whoever had dared to touch her. It was Agent Maria Hill, staring back at her.

Clint turned to her, clearly irritated. "What the hell, Maria? Do you have some sort of death wish? Natasha can easily kill you, and will if I don't feel like stopping her."

Agent Hill gave Clint a grim smile and turned to her, "I just want to give this little bitch a taste of her own medicine. She doesn't belong here, Clint, and I want to make sure that she knows it."

"Maria, just because her past isn't as bright and shiny as yours, doesn't mean that she doesn't belong here. If she doesn't belong, then neither do I! You of all people know exactly what I've done, you were even there to see some of it. I almost killed you on numerous occasions, and yet you think that I belong here more than she does?"

"You're different than she is, you have a soul. She is so damaged, warped and broken that I don't even think she's human anymore."

"Natasha, go to our apartment, I'll meet you there. I have some things to say to Agent Hill first."

She wanted to kick that self righteous woman's ass into next year, but she wanted to be with Clint even more. Natasha knew that if she was to take such a gamble, she could end up either thrown out of the program or dead. Neither of those options appealed to her, so she took a deep breath and walked away. She had no intention of going to the apartment.

When she was out of earshot, Maria turned to look at Clint. "Our apartment? What, are you sleeping with her now? Is that why you are so protective of her?"

"No, I'd never do something like that to her. Yes, Natasha is gorgeous, but she is so much more than that. She is smart, kind, and funny. She has opened up to me and trusted me. And do you think that she wanted to become the way she is today? Did you know that she was taken when she was eight years old? Her family was killed right in front of her, Maria. To this day, she is convinced that their deaths were her fault. I'm protective of her because no one has ever taken care of her since she was taken by the Russian government and made into a killer. I protect her because she is exactly like I was. If you ever lay a hand on her again, I'll let her take you on and then I'll tell Director Fury that it was self defense. You might be the number two, but Fury and I will always have a friendship that you can't dream of possessing. He will believe me over you any day."

Agent Hill stared at Clint, stunned. She hadn't expected him to come to bat for Natasha. Although, she hadn't known what to expect. Maybe she thought that he still loved her enough to let her pick a fight with that girl.

"Maria, when I said we were over last year, I meant it. You changed, and I don't like who you've become. I don't know what happened to you that made you want power so badly, but you traded who you were for that power. The thing is, I really liked the old you. I could have even seen myself loving the old you, given enough time. I can't deal with you anymore, right now. I need to go find Natasha. Please do us all a favor and don't pick fights with her. If she gets kicked out of S.H.I.E.L.D., I will hold you personally responsible; if that happens, I don't think I could forgive you for that."

Natasha walked quickly but calmly in the opposite direction, trying to cool off. Agent Hill needed to back off, hopefully Clint could get that into her thick skull. She didn't want a fight, but if a fight came to her, she wouldn't walk away from it again.

She had no idea where she was going in this vast expanse of a base. There were so many hallways, so many doors that Clint hadn't had a chance to show her yet. Natasha just kept walking as she took deep breaths to calm down. That woman was relentless and had made it plainly clear that she wanted Natasha gone. All she wanted was a clean slate, a new start but no Maria Hill wouldn't let that happen. Suddenly, a sign caught her eye, Weapons Practice. Well, that was exactly what she needed. Give that girl a gun and a target, and let her go to town. She tried the door, it wasn't locked, and walked in.

Natasha was surprised at how immense this place really was. What she had assumed was a single room was, in fact, an entire department. There were rows upon rows of weapons lining the walls, and numerous doors directing her to use them for various weapon practice. She walked over to the wall of guns, contemplating which ones she should choose. She needed two, that was a given, but the question was which ones to choose. Someone cleared their throat, causing her to spin around in surprise.

In front of her was an elderly man, around his mid sixties. He was balding, with just a fringe of grey hair on the sides. This man was wearing a polo shirt and jeans, definitely not the standard S.H.I.E.L.D. attire. He seemed to be trying to look stern, but a smile was creeping onto his face. Natasha opened her mouth to explain, but he beat her to it.

"Agent Romanoff, I take it. I was wondering when you'd show up here. It doesn't take new agents very long to find this place, even if they haven't had the official tour. I'm Tomas, but you can call me Tom."

" Hi, um I'm really sorry to intrude. I just wanted to blow off some steam and get myself back together. And you can just call me Natasha, formalities aren't really my thing."

The old man smiled, "You're not intruding on anyone. You're welcome here whenever you'd like. So, which two will it be?"

"Two?"

"Oh, you only want one gun? I got the impression that you were a two gun kind of girl."

She stared at this man, puzzled. How could he have guessed that? Was she that easy to read?

"Honey, I've been a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. since I was eighteen. I'm sixty eight now, I know how to read even the best. And I must say, you are pretty good for your age. Now, I'd say you'd want to go American. Not something too big, though. I'd say you should try two Glock 17's. These babies are chambered for the 9mm cartridge and have a 17 round magazine. As for extra ammo, here's two boxes and some earplugs. Gotta keep that hearing sharp, you know. Third door to the left has target practice. When you're done with that, I'll take you to the simulated course."

Natasha took the boxes and earplugs he handed her and nodded her thanks at this nice old man. He kind of reminded her of her grandfather, but with an American accent instead of a Russian one. As she approached the door he directed her to, it slid open revealing a good sized target course.

She put her earplugs in and loaded her guns. Natasha pursed her lips, trying to decide where she should start. The mock hostage situation seemed good enough. It was a picture of a really ugly looking man from the eighties with a choke hold around a panicked woman. He was holding a revolver to the side of her head. The woman in her shook her head. Typical male dominator trying to get out of a lifetime in prison by threatening to shoot a bystander. Would reality ever change? She pointed both of her guns at the target, and shot alternating rounds. Once she was out of ammunition, she pressed the button that brought the target to her.

Not bad, she thought. She hadn't hit the woman once, but the guy was totally butchered. He was covered in exactly thirty four bullet holes, not bad for a first try. She put up another target and reloaded her weapons, this time putting the target farther away. This, and five other targets, occupied her for the next several hours. The new and improved Black Widow had come back with a bang.

**Some tension with Agent Hill…duh duh duh. I had to get into their relationship, it was beckoning me. I hope you all liked it. Please send me a review if you get a chance and let me know how you like it so far and if there is anything I can improve on. It would be greatly appreciated and would make my day. I love you all because you are taking your time to read my story. I never thought people would actually read it! XOXO -Kat**


	13. Ballet and Grilled Cheese

**Author's Note: Hey guys, here is another update. In this chapter, you will find out a little bit more about Natasha's past. I hope you all like it!**

The month went by quickly, Natasha and Clint were closer than ever. Every other day they sparred, each day they knew each other more and more. Eventually, they knew each other so well that every fight ended up in a draw. Finally, Clint decided to up the anti. He started sessions in their apartment, making weapons out of everything. Natasha thought it was the best thing in the world, and their apartment was frequently in shambles.

On one of these such days at the end of the month, Natasha was cleaning up the wreckage that was their living room. She had broken a chair on Clint and he had thrown her into a wall. There was a hole in it where her elbow had hit. She had kicked him out to go get a new chair and something to patch the wall. She was a little sore, but they had both gotten worse from their fights. She could say that her hand to hand combat was superb, ever since Clint had been training her. In situations that she had barely made it out alive before, she now would be able to handle proficiently. The room was finally more or less clean, so Natasha decided to intensify her workout for the day.

She quietly stole out of their apartment and to the dance studio. Her ballet shoes were right where she had left them, as was her music. She stretched her legs and went into the splits. She did a few experimental pirouettes and pliés to warm herself up. Natasha shook her head, she was exhausted. She couldn't sleep without nightmares cruelly shaking her awake. Usually, she was able to put them to the back of her mind because she wasn't between jobs very often. When she was pretending to be someone else, the dreams weren't as severe, sometimes they even went away completely. She needed this mission, for sanity's sake. Only two more days until their next meeting with Coulson, she could do this.

She pressed play and danced. Everything she felt was poured out into her steps, the frustration, the exhaustion, the happiness, and the joy of a challenge, it was all there. For thirty minutes she danced, thinking that she was performing only for herself. When the music finally stopped, she gracefully sank down to the ground. She took a deep breath and smiled; dancing was something she had missed. Her heart was overflowing with emotions, some good some bad.

Natasha jerked her head up when she heard someone sink down to the floor beside her. She turned to see Clint put his arm around her and give her a sideways hug; she smiled. Of course he would find her here, he knew her better than any living person. She shook her head, she had known him for a month and he was already so important to her.

"Tash, what's going on in that brain of yours, hmmm? I know it's those dreams of yours, you woke up again last night. You looked like you wanted to be alone, so I didn't follow you. I'm sorry, maybe I should have."

He knew, he always knew. Maybe it would be best to just tell him. She looked down at her pointe shoes, gently untying the ribbons. "Usually, my nightmares vary from night to night. It's been the same one, for a month now."

"Alekandr?"

"Every night," her eyes filled with tears. "They had me handcuffed to a chair and they were torturing him. They saved Alek for last, everyone else was dead by the time they got to him. He was so scared, and I couldn't do anything about it. He kept yelling for me, asking me to stop them. I tried telling him that it would be okay, that- that someone would rescue us. That we'd be okay. The last thing he said to me was, "Sestra, why won't you stop them? Why don't you love me anymore? What did I do?"

"He died thinking that I didn't love him, Clint. He died alone, thinking that we all had left him. By the time they took the cuffs off me, he was gone. I spent four hours crying over his body, screaming. I lost it, I wanted to die. They had to drag me away from his body. He was wearing a crucifix, I still have it with me."

Clint sighed, he knew parts of the story due to his interrogations of some of her captors. Natasha had been to hell before she was even ten years old. There were times that he was amazed that she still retained her sanity. Everyday that he could give her that wasn't a living hell, gave him hope that someday she might be able to heal completely.

"I'm sorry, Nat. You need to know that it wasn't your fault that he died."

"If I had just done what they wanted me to after they took me, my whole family would still be alive. They didn't have to die."

"They would've killed them anyway. Your father was a very prominent professor with many radical ideas that went against the Russian government. The only reason they let you live was because they could see your potential. You were young enough to be moulded to their desires, your sisters were too old. Aleksandr was sick, wasn't he? So he couldn't become a superb weapon. He couldn't be a killing machine."

Natasha nodded, amazed that he knew so much. "He had Type 1 Diabetes. He had to have insulin everyday. They didn't give it to him while they had him for a week. He was so weak when I saw him, so helpless. It didn't take long for him to die. I hunted them down, you know, once I got free. I killed every single government agent I could find that hurt Aleksandr. They knew I was coming for them, too. I made sure they knew who wanted them dead and why."

"So that's how they all died. I figured it was you, I just wasn't quite sure why. Let's go get something to eat, it will make you feel better. I'll make you a grilled cheese if you want one. Come on, we can have dinner in bed and watch a movie. Tomorrow is another research day."

Natasha smiled as Clint picked her up and carried her to the door. "Put me down, Clint Barton! I can walk by myself, thank you very much."

He gave her an impish grin, "Hmmm, I don't think so." He swung her over his shoulder while she laughed and playfully punched his back. She finally gave up and crossed her arms. She knew she was going to lose this fight. To her relief, they didn't encounter a single person on the way to the apartment. In her current condition, she would have been mortified.

Finally, they arrived at the door and Clint put her down to unlock it. "I was still wearing my pointe shoes, Clint!"

He shook his head and headed to the small kitchen to make the grilled cheeses. He turned on the stove and pulled out the ingredients. "Nat, go put on your pj's and pick the movie. Do you want popcorn?"

"Sure, sounds good to me."

Fifteen minutes later they were in bed watching To Kill a Mockingbird and eating grilled cheese and popcorn. They drank grape juice and enjoyed the movie. To Clint's surprise, To Kill a Mockingbird was one of Nat's favorite books. He was hoping she would like the movie as well. By the time the credits rolled around, Natasha was rubbing her eyes. She was unaware that Clint had put a natural herb used to promote deep, dreamless sleep in her juice. She was in desperate need of a good night sleep before their meeting to discuss Budapest.

**I hope you liked this. Please drop me a line and let me know what you guys thought. I know it's a little bit of a serious tone at points, but I hope I was able to lighten it up a little bit. I'm pretty sure that I'll update next weekend, but I can't make any guarantees. Thank you to everyone that has read, reviewed, followed, or favorited this story. I love you all! So, what do you think will happen in the meeting with Coulson? What is going to happen in Budapest? **


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